Ol Men, Brollies and Mem'Ries
Little old men ‘neath big black Bumbershoots
Meandering about in the soft Spring rain
Savoring the mornin’ air and mayhaps...
Recalling their youth once again
The very air seems a blanket
Woven in lace, imbued with a trace
Of morning mist that insists
On caressing one’s face
With the tender touch
Of a maiden fair
Seems the rain
That is wrapped In the air
That gives the old men pause
To peer all about
As if to see now…what once was
And now is without
Yet the rain stays the same
In it’s soothing refrain
And the old men with their brollies
Rheumy eyes and mem’ries
Remain meandering about…
…In the soft Springtime rain…
Copyright © David O'Haolin Whalen | Year Posted 2018
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